


‘Ask Nanny! I ask you!’

by Crowgirl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Not Beta Read, The Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 08:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21505024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: ‘Well -- it is rather yourjob --’
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 126
Collections: Chaste Omens





	‘Ask Nanny! I ask you!’

Aziraphale looks up, a little startled, when his cottage door slams open and relaxes almost immediately. ‘And how has your day been, Nanny?’

Crowley pulls off his sunglasses and glowers at him. ‘Knock it off and get me a drink.’

‘What do you fancy?’

‘Lots.’ Crowley kicks the door shut behind him, flings his sunglasses down on the end table, and slumps dramatically onto the couch where Aziraphale had been sitting. ‘Much. Slightly more than that, even.’

‘Oh, you poor dear,’ Aziraphale says with slightly theatrical sympathy, pouring whiskey into two glasses. ‘Was dinner that hard?’

Crowley takes one glass and knocks back half in one swallow, then sighs and lets his head drop against the back of the couch, closing his eyes. ‘Wasn’t dinner. Was what came _after_ dinner.’

‘Storytime getting too taxing for you?’ Aziraphale drops onto the other end of the couch.

Crowley rolls his head back and forth slowly. ‘Little stinker wanted to know where babies come from.’

Aziraphale chokes and covers his mouth with his hand until he manages to swallow. ‘Oh -- oh, my. Where did _that_ come from? Isn’t he a little _young?’_

‘Mum’s off to attend a shower tonight.’ Crowley drains the glass and Aziraphale passes his own over. _‘But mummy...’_ Crowley’s ability to mimick is as uncanny with Warlock as it is with anyone else and Aziraphale fights not to smile. _‘You always have a shower in the morning._ And do you know what she said?’ Crowley glares at the ceiling. _‘Don’t bother me about it now, darling. Ask Nanny later._ Ask Nanny! I ask you!’

‘Well -- it is rather your _job --’_

‘Not human biology, it isn’t!’ Crowley shoves himself forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and pinching at the bridge of his nose. ‘I mean, I thought I’d have a little _warning_ at least!’

‘How much warning do you need? Surely it’s simple enough.’

‘Oh, really? That’s what you think?’ Crowley pulls up one knee so he’s facing Aziraphale, cradling the whiskey glass in both hands. 

‘Well--’ Aziraphale shrugs. ‘--it’s not as though it’s _very_ complicated.’

 _‘But how did the baby get inside her, Nanny?’_ Crowley opens his eyes wide, cocking his head to one side in an exaggeration of Warlock’s favorite attitude when asking questions.

‘Well, she -- and her -- husband -- or male partner, I suppose -- er -- lay down together and --’ Aziraphale stammers to a halt, aware that he’s starting to blush.

‘Exactly,’ Crowley says with a kind of gloomy satisfaction. ‘You couldn’t do it either.’ He tosses back the rest of the whiskey. ‘And it’s not like I want to put the kid _off,_ do I? He might be the antiChrist but he’s got a right to his first time like everyone else. But it’s all so -- so _squishy.’_ He gives an elaborate shudder.

Aziraphale quashes another smile. ‘You’ve never protested before.’

Crowley rolls his eyes and shoves the empty glass onto the windowsill, then swings his legs up onto the couch and scoots himself backward until his head is in Aziraphale’s lap, cradled in the angle of his knee. ‘That’s different.’ 

‘Is it?’ Aziraphale pretends to be considering the question as he pulls pins from Crowley’s hair, winding thick curls around his fingers as he goes. 

‘Well, it isn’t _human,_ for one.’ Crowley closes his eyes.

‘But surely the essential _experience--’_

‘How would I know!’

‘Oh, come now.’ Aziraphale drops a handful of hairpins on the windowsill and slides his hands back into Crowley’s hair. Crowley makes a low groaning noise in his throat and lifts his head slightly so Aziraphale can get at the tight muscles at the back of his neck. ‘I know we’ve never discussed it as such but--’

‘Nope,’ Crowley says, as matter of fact as if Aziraphale had asked if he intended to go with a walk with Warlock tomorrow. 

‘--no?’ 

Crowley shakes his head, careful not to dislodge Aziraphale’s hands. ‘Not before you. Not since you. Just you.’ 

Aziraphale blinks. ‘Crowley -- my -- my _dear,_ I--’

Crowley waves one hand. ‘’S’all right, angel. Know it’s not the same for you.’

Aziraphale swallows heavily.

Crowley peers up through half-opened eyes and reaches up to pat Aziraphale’s shoulder. _‘’S’all right,_ I said.’

Aziraphale slips one hand free of the coils of Crowley’s hair and traces the line of his jaw down to his chin, then runs the tip of his thumb along the line of Crowley’s lower lip. Crowley hums contentedly and ducks his chin to kiss Aziraphale’s thumb, then laces their fingers together and holds Aziraphale’s hand against his breastbone.

‘I didn’t -- I wish --’ Aziraphale stops and clears his throat. ‘I wish -- I hadn’t. Before you.’ His voice sounds slightly too loud in his own ears. ‘I would -- I would like to have given you that.’

Crowley looks up at him for a long minute, then, with a sigh of effort, twists over onto his stomach and shoves himself up onto his knees, leaning forward to lace his fingers behind Aziraphale’s neck. He tugs slightly until Aziraphale leans forward so their foreheads are touching, warm skin against cool. ‘Angel. Y’re mine now, right? Not sneakin’ off in the bushes with anyone else? No stealthy trips to the back of the greenhouse with that cute little chef?’ 

Aziraphale nods, bringing his own hands up to Crowley’s wrists. ‘Yours. Yours for as long as you’ll have me.’

Crowley grins and drops a kiss on the very tip of Aziraphale’s nose, then twists himself over and flops back into Aziraphale’s lap, linking his hands behind his head. ‘That’s all right, then. Now. You’ll want me to help you figure out what to say to the little darling when he shows up tomorrow morning wanting to know how you found him in a cabbage patch.’

‘Crowley!’


End file.
